“I know she’s right,” he says finally. “I know it’s foolish for me to be out here on my own, and it hasn’t been the same since Annie passed. It’s damn lonely without her.”
I put a hand on his shoulder. Annie was gone by the time I first stopped in, but I’ve heard a lot about her since I met Rupert. It seems as if they had one of those solid marriages, love at first sight, holding each other’s hands through thick and thin. Everyone should be so lucky.
I’m hoping I might be.
“And I know Annette’s right that it’s smarter to move when I’m still active. I should find a new place to live, somewhere that’s easy for me to navigate. A bungalow or an apartment. I should move now and have time to find a doctor, to make new friends, to settle into a community. It’s no good when people move after they’re close to passing. It’s too much then. Doing it now would be the smarter choice.”
“But you don’t want to go.”
He gives me a look. “Would you?”
“No.” We smile at each other, then he sobers.
“It would be easier if I knew whoever bought the land and trusted them.” He gives me a hard look that I can’t misinterpret.
“You want Cavendish Enterprises to buy your farm?”
“No.” He’s emphatic.
That can only mean one thing. “You wantmeto buy your farm?”
“Why not? Get out from under your father’s thumb, or at least have the choice of doing so.”
I have confided in Rupert about my frustration with Dad.
My instinct is to refuse. I already have a job that’s more than full time. The last thing I need is a farm with acreage to be tilled, a house that needs work and an aging greenhouse.
On the other hand, maybe that’s exactly what I need.
Maybe Rupert is offering my exit plan.
“You wouldn’t have to go to the bank,” he continues. “I’ll finance the mortgage for you. It’s only money and the last thing you need is those bastards owning a chunk of your life.” Rupert has a profound distrust of banks.
Kind of like Sylvia.
“How will you buy another place, then?”
“Well, you must have something saved up for a down payment. I’ll buy my place with that, and you’ll send me a monthly payment on the mortgage. It’ll work out just fine, and with a better interest rate for you.” He doesn’t push it, that’s not Rupert’s style, but sits in silence while I turn the prospect around in my thoughts. I’m looking for a flaw, but I can’t find one.
I do have a bunch of money saved.
I like the idea of building a future.
I would love to have a choice when it came to walking away from Cavendish Enterprises.
In a heartbeat, I’m thinking about Merrie’s heritage varieties and smaller crops. I’m thinking about offering Carlos a job myself. I’m thinking of all the plans and strategies my dad is determined to veto. I’m thinking about moving out of thehouse where I camp out and making a home – with Sylvia and Sierra.
It sounds wonderful.
It also sounds disloyal and an abdication of my responsibilities – look at that. I can compose my father’s tirade without even waiting for him to do it. How much do I owe Cavendish Enterprises? Do I have to work there my whole life? Can I yearn for something else?
Rupert and I sit on the porch together in silence, watching the clouds. The rain has been mustering all day and big drops start to fall.
“Course, you’d want a wife,” he says casually. “What about that pretty little lady you brought out here with her daughter?”
“You planning my whole life now?” I ask with a smile and he chortles.
“Somebody’s got to do it. I don’t see you making much progress.”
